


Death is in the eye of the beholder

by one_go_alone



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gift Fic, M/M, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-06-27 09:34:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19788148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/one_go_alone/pseuds/one_go_alone
Summary: Death, like beauty and madness, is sometimes only in the eye of the beholder. But when once-trustworthy eyes begin to lie, where is truth to be found?





	1. ~1~

**Author's Note:**

> I _think_ this is the first thing I wrote for this pairing that I actually posted to the internet. My original Word doc is dated 2006. ^_^;; It was a gift for Uni-Mara! (I'm probably shutting down my LJ in the not-too-distant future, so I'll be transferring older fic over here to AO3.)

The day was dying.

They were walking down an old road. The surrounding land was barren, dry and covered with huge, broken rocks and the withered white trunks of long-dead trees. The air was slightly chill, and the occasional gust of wind whistled through the rocks, flapping the black-and-red cloaks around them. 

The sky overhead was not blue. Though only late afternoon, the sky was dull, strangely colorless, and stained with red only to the west on the other side of the mountains where the sun was beginning to set.

Blood-red eyes lifted briefly to the color-drained sky, dropped to the scattering of live trees ahead, and then glanced briefly sideways.

Kisame glanced back, silently acknowledging the warning. The trees, dark conifers mostly, were getting thicker…and there were enemies waiting. 

The first kunai came just as they passed into the first living trees. It sliced down the middle of them, forcing the missing-nin to push off to opposite sides of the road. As soon as their feet touched down again, men swarmed out of the woods, shinobi by their movements, but dressed all in black. Not ANBU, then, and they wore no hitai-ate to be identified by. They filled the gap between the two men quickly, cutting them off from each other. With one of the many strings of kunai hidden under his coat already out and flying into the first row of attackers, Itachi risked a quick glance to his partner. Reassured by the easy strokes of the white-wrapped blade, he focused on the next wave of dark figures rushing toward him.

He did find the attack odd, though. Out in the middle of nowhere…and they weren’t even on their way back from a mission. Unusual, but not impossible, so he pushed the issue out of his mind and focused fully on the battle. 

He meant to stand his ground, meant to put his back to one tree and drop these inferior shinobi like the cannon fodder they were. He managed this strategy for a little while, but they kept coming, wave after wave, and at last he was forced back. Kisame had already disappeared into the darkening trees on the other side of the road. Itachi, not pleased but hoping to find better ground, let himself be moved west through the sparse forest, heading closer to the mountains.

And still they came. Such a focused attack ruled out the possibility that they were a bandit group – they had been waiting for Kisame and him specifically. But why? No one should even have known they were here.

Finally finding a better place to turn and face his pursuers, Itachi slowed out of his run, red eyes spinning. 

He would deal with the rest of these insects, and then he would find his partner.

* * *

Kisame knew he was in trouble. 

He swung the Samehada quickly left, ducking under another cut from the right, and then barely avoiding two stabs from the man in front of him. He felt the pinprick of a sword tip on his back, and spun left again, sweeping his sword around to knock that blade away as well. 

He was confused. It was all backwards…after that initial rush of shinobi, they should have sent the majority of the weaker fighters after him, to keep him busy, while they sent the best ones after Itachi.

He spun to avoid simultaneous strokes from the left and right. One from behind cut a shallow slice on his upper arm, though it wasn’t bad enough to make him drop the Samehada. He skipped ahead a couple of steps to avoid the stabs he sensed coming from behind.

But they hadn’t done that. They’d pushed him far enough back from the road to be out of sight range and earshot of his partner before sending their five best fighters after him, not after the Uchiha.

This is a bad sign, the shark-like man thought grimly. He managed to fend off yet another well coordinated attack from his circle of enemies, but this time he got a long slice on his left leg and could feel blood trickling down his back from a shallow stab to his left shoulder. What is their purpose? This will finish me, but not Itachi-san…if they’re trying to kill us they’re going about it all wrong.

All his wounds were bleeding more heavily now, and his limbs were beginning to feel sluggish, mostly the arm that had been cut. Poison on that blade? Not unlikely…

Poison…to poison _me_ …what if to kill us _isn’t_ the point… Not to kill… Itachi-san… His vision was beginning to blur. He ducked under another attack and tried to get the Samehada around to block the man to his left, but his arms wouldn’t move fast enough. He was almost there when he dully felt a foot connect with his forearm. The Samehada fell to the ground. Itachi-san…it’s wrong, careful…it’s not right… _Itachi_ …

Then pain exploded on the side of his head, and he knew no more.

* * *

Itachi closed his eyes. In the fragments of a second it took for pale lids to cover violent crimson, he assessed his situation. 

Three strings of kunai, a few shuriken. Plenty of chakra.

Still too many opponents. 

Crimson eyes opened, black commas spinning. 

Not so many opponents now…only smokeless black fire.

He could, he estimated, use the Mangekyou Amaterasu three times more. Given the men that continued to stream into the empty space in front of him, he’d probably need all of those times.

Tossing off a few more shuriken, he took a deep breath and fought on. 

* * *

Kisame could feel only pain. Pain and, gradually, an awareness of movement, of speed. 

He was attempting to force rock-heavy eyelids open when a strange smell filled his nostrils, and blackness overtook him again.

* * * 

Someone must be very desperate to see him dead. 

He had used the Amaterasu again, and again after that, and even that had not deterred them long. Usually the sheer horror of its destructiveness was enough to keep enemies at bay for a few minutes. Canon fodder these shinobi might be…but they were well-trained canon fodder.

He had enough chakra left for using the Mangekyou once more. After that, he would have to resort to the rest of his weapons and lesser jutsu to fight the higher-level opponents that would certainly come after his reserves had been drained. 

An odd sensation, as of being watched too intently, drew his eyes up to the trees on his left, where the forest thickened, and darkness had already come. 

A still moment, then he found himself forced to blink eyes gone suddenly dry and turned back to the fight. It was nothing after all – there was no one there that he could tell. 

Moments later, he took a deep breath and pulled out the Amaterasu one last time. This one took out nearly thirty of the enemy shinobi, and it seemed to the Uchiha as though those remaining filled the empty space with growing reluctance, taking more time to ease around the onyx fires still burning on the ashes of the comrades. 

So he pulled out his remaining kunai, and tensed for the attack of higher level opponents…

…that never came.

A few minutes more of fighting, and then the remaining shinobi withdrew, disappearing into the darkness between the trees. 

Itachi tensed further, extending his senses, still expecting another attack. But it didn’t come, and didn’t come. 

The instinct in him shifted to become a blatant whisper in his mind, _Something’s wrong._

He reached out with his remaining chakra, but there were no other chakra signatures to be found. 

_None at all,_ came the whisper again. _Something’s wrong._

Slowly, carefully, still watchful, Itachi began to move, heading back the way he had come. The forest was silent, the darkness growing minute by minute. Still no other presences. 

Kisame, Itachi thought.

 _Something’s wrong,_ whispered the voice in his mind.

I can’t feel Kisame’s chakra signature. I haven’t _been_ feeling it. He reached the road where the ambush had begun, feet moving faster. Why haven’t I been able to feel it?

 _Death,_ whispered the voice. _In battle, only death steals it away completely._

Itachi was racing through the trees now, following the path of corpses his partner had left. 

Death, he scoffed. Kisame doesn’t…wouldn’t…

 _No chakra,_ whispered the doubt. _None at all._

Itachi clenched his hands and flew on-

-only to stop abruptly on at the edge of a clearing. He’d been moving in a curve, through the trees back the way he and his partner had originally come, nearly parallel to the road. Thicker trees behind him gave out onto a clearing ringed only by the dead, sparse skeleton trees of the barren land. The sky overhead was dark, and red.

 _Something’s wrong,_ whispered the voice. _Death has come here._

The trail ended here. There had been a great fight, his crimson eyes could see that at a glance. A difficult fight.

Itachi was barely aware of his feet walking toward the center of the clearing. 

Dull glinting on dark earth. He knelt, hands closing automatically around metal and cloth. 

Blue cloth, sliced neatly down the side, near the temple. A powerful, efficient sword stroke. Dull metal, the slash mark through Kirigakure’s sigil clear even through the blood.

Blood. Blood on the cloth, blood on the metal. Blood staining the dark earth beneath his knees. 

_So much blood,_ the voice whispered. _Too much blood._

The area of dark-stained earth was large, extending well out away from where the hitai-ate had lain. Itachi put his hand down, lifted it to stare numbly at the nearly black stain on his long, pale fingers. 

Death, Itachi thought, mind blank.

 _Death,_ agreed the whisper, almost enticingly.

Dead. Kisame is dead.

Some distant part of him protested, but he couldn’t hear it. Everything fit, what was there left to question or deny?

Kisame was dead. 

Incomprehensible as it was, he had never been able to shirk away from facts. Never allowed himself any illusions. 

Itachi rose, once-bright scarlet eyes gone dull and barely seeing. In his left hand, he clenched the metal of the blood-stained hitai-ate tightly. 

It was odd, he thought, that he couldn’t seem to feel his body as he turned and walked toward the monolithic mountains.

That distant part of him protested again, about a mission and things left undone…but it was too far away to make out.

 _What does it matter?_ The whisper came one last time. _What does anything matter?_

Kisame was dead.

Itachi walked blankly toward the mountains. Overhead, the red sky deepened finally into black. 

The day had died, and night had fallen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...this one is weird. And mostly out of character, now that we know more about Itachi. *sigh* Such is the nature of posting older fic, I guess! Things are explained more in the next chapter.


	2. ~2~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisame finds himself in an unpleasant situation, while Itachi struggles with his partner's apparent death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've updated this very slightly so that the parts with other Akatsuki members are slightly more accurate, but I'm not making major changes to this fic, so my apologies if any of that is off.

Kisame drifted slowly back into consciousness this time. Pain was still the first thing hovering in his awareness, but it was duller now, and easier to ignore. 

He was lying on something hard, in a room that was not terribly warm. He was still wearing his shirt and pants, but his cloak and sandals were gone, as was the carry-strap for his sword. Samehada was nearby, he could dimly sense, but not close. 

Fuzzily, the creak of a door opening and closing reached his ears, and voices came close enough for him to pick up. They moved forward, then stopped a few feet away from where he was lying. 

“-still can’t believe you actually did it!” a male voice was finishing admiringly.

“It was difficult in terms of numbers lost, but the plan itself wasn’t terribly hard, or complicated.” This one was female. Kisame’s mind drifted out again for a second, before he pulled himself back into focus and picked up her words again. “…once I was sure the Uchiha wouldn’t follow, I released it and came back here.” 

“But it was still dangerous, Damashi-sama! To attempt a genjutsu on _that_ one, with his eyes…”

“Well, yes, it was,” the woman’s voice didn’t sound smug, simply factual. “Though more than half of it was understanding his psychology, how he would react to the situation. Fortunately, I’ve seen his kind before, so it wasn’t too hard to guess how he’d react in this case. The jutsu itself is difficult, though not impossible, even though it is cast through the target’s eyes and mind, and not through my own.”

“Amazing,” murmured the man again. 

“Lucky, more like,” the woman sounded amused, but pleased. “Lucky that I found the scroll describing it in the first place; I’m not the only one to have ever wanted to pass a genjutsu off on a Sharingan user. But without getting _that_ one out of the way, we’d never have been able to even get this one back here.”

“Ah, but you have him now, Damashi-sama.” 

“Yes, yes indeed I do. And such an interesting one! I’ve wanted to study _this_ bloodline more closely for _years_ …”

The last thing Kisame had time to notice before his mind decided that he’d been conscious long enough was that, for the first time, the woman’s voice sounded eager. 

* * *

The ground under his feet had changed from dirt to gravel.

Itachi stopped, one eye twitching slightly when he realized that, once again, he couldn’t remember where or when the change had occurred. It was such a tiny detail…but still he couldn’t remember. He would never have had trouble remembering, indeed would never had had trouble noticing it when it happened, back before-

No.

There was a veil drawn, or so it seemed to him. Usually it was grey, like fog, and kept him wandering as he had been just now, without noticing any of the details around him, without even really noticing the movements of his own body properly. Sometimes it was black, and then he couldn’t sense anything at all – he supposed that he was unconscious then; he couldn’t call it sleep.

And then there were the times when it was red. This happened even less often, but he remembered it better; when the veil was red, he could see and sense everything with clarity so sharp it was nearly painful. 

Gravel road.

Itachi pulled his thoughts out of their wandering and looked up. He was approaching a village. Odd. He had been up in the mountains ever since-

He must have taken a path down onto flatter land some time ago. He wondered vaguely where he was, but then shrugged. Did it really matter?

He was somewhat surprised to note that he was hungry, and that the last time he had eaten was another of those things he couldn’t quite recall. It was about time to get food, wasn’t it? He glanced up at the sky, then turned to ask if-

 _No._

He started walking again, less lethargically this time. It was a small village, isolated up in the foothills of the mountains. The grey veil had drawn itself again as he passed the open gate through the thin wooden palisade that surrounded the town and slowed his footsteps on the main (and pretty much only) street. 

People around him, many staring discreetly; a couple of oxen, a few dogs and chickens; hand-drawn carts; small, dull houses; a weather-worn sign to indicate an inn – he noted them dimly through the veil, measuring his paces toward the inn where he supposed there was food to be had. If there wasn’t, he would probably just wander on again. It wasn’t as though he cared that much-

To his right and nearly behind him a man shifted, eyeing the stranger warily, tightening his grip slightly on the axe that rested on his shoulder.

Itachi neither had nor needed any time to make the transition from the grey veil to the red. He stopped, eyes spinning abruptly scarlet, fixed on the man that stood in the corner of his vision. Everything shifted into clear-cut lines.

People froze, pulling children closer and stilling their animals. Silence. 

Itachi took one deep breath, smelling fear, and listened to the subtle shifts as people clutched tighter all the weapons he hadn’t noticed before: hoes, sharpened for cutting tough earth; a long length of wood for building; iron ladles and pans; cooking and hunting knives. 

His left hand was full, still clenched around blue cloth and metal still stained with the blood of-

NO.

There was a kunai in his right hand now, though he didn’t remember grabbing it from inside his coat. 

Didn’t matter. There were enemies all around, hardened mountain people, and he had no one to watch his back anymore. 

He was alone. 

Alone…

And then, just as abruptly, the red veil had been drawn away again, and the grey slid down to replace it. 

Alone. 

The kunai found its way back into its holster inside his coat. His left hand clenched tighter around its burden, deepening the cuts his palm already carried from gripping the edges of the metal too tightly. The scarlet in his eyes dulled to something not quite red and not quite black. It was enough. For now. 

Slowly, one step at a time, he walked on, straight through the village and out the gate on the other side. Not a single villager stirred the entire time, and he was dimly aware of the gates being shut behind him. 

In a way, he was glad that the red veil had gone so quickly this time. He had too much blood on his coat already, and it was exhausting when it was done. The red veil had come other times, he knew, but couldn’t remember how many or how long those had lasted; just that it made him tired. 

Well, he supposed it was exhaustion. In truth, he couldn’t feel much of anything anymore. Felt detached most of the time, except when the red veil covered him. That was another reason he didn’t like it; it made him feel connected, and when he was connected, he had to remember things. 

In the woods, later that day, he found ripe berries and eased the distant ache in his stomach a bit. At nightfall, a deer startled the red veil back into place, and this time it wouldn’t leave him so easily. He made a fire and ate the rabbit it had yielded him as soon as it was cooked enough to be edible. 

Then, lying down with his back to the fire and his face and a kunai to the midnight forest, he let the black veil overtake the grey, only now letting the memory slip briefly through his mind, so that hopefully it would leave him alone again when he woke. 

Kisame is dead.

* * *

The jingle of keys and clang of the door slamming shut woke Kisame from another stretch of agitated sleep that left him feeling more tired than before he had closed his eyes. He lay still, though, and listened carefully. 

No conversation this time, unfortunately. He’d learned quite a bit more about his captors than he was probably supposed to know, just by listening in when they thought he was asleep. But not this time. Just more jingling of keys, the sliding noise of grating being moved, and more shuffling that told him another tray of water and gruel had been slid into the barred cell that imprisoned him. Then the grating slid close, the keys jingled briefly once more, and then the door into the room outside the cell was opened and slammed shut. 

Damn. Kisame opened his eyes, and then sat up slowly. He gritted his teeth to avoid groaning over the pain, but couldn’t stop a wince. 

He ached everywhere. He’d only been here for a few days – four, he thought – and already he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to make it. 

That psychotic woman and her experiments… Kisame did realize that he was probably not the most appropriate person to be harping at psychosis, but he didn’t care. He didn’t _experiment_ on people. 

Kaibou Damashi was a medic-nin turned missing-nin (he’d never quite figured out from which village) who was very good at what she did, and, unfortunately, had a penchant for learning about unusual bloodline limits. By whatever means necessary. 

All of that combined with a rather extraordinary talent for genjutsu and a near-frightening talent for psychological analysis (honed over years of treating shinobi in all mental states), had allowed Kisame to put together a picture of a subtly but powerfully dangerous missing-nin that had somehow escaped the attention of the shinobi villages; she was not listed in the bingo book, and the size of her following and operation indicated that she had left services of her village quite some time ago. 

Likely she arranged it so that the manner of her leaving made her village believe she was dead. And she’s been so subtle with her operations since then that no one really noticed she was still around. Kisame sighed, and worked up the mental fortitude to push himself to his feet. Even his bones ached. Not even the Akatsuki noticed her, and that’s saying something.

He retrieved his tray with its cup of water and bowl of completely unappetizing gruel (all the more nourishment he’d been given since his capture) and returned to the hard bench that served him as both seat and bed. 

Grimacing at the tray with distaste, he still forced every last bit of the stuff down his throat, and greedily drank up the water. He knew what they were doing; they were trying to keep him weak (between the experiments that were often borderline torture and the lack of food) so that he wouldn’t be able to try and escape. Even his wounds from the battle in which he’d been captured had been only perfunctorily treated and were healing very slowly. 

It was working, too, to some extent. He was very weak. Ropes around his wrists and ankles suppressed his chakra as well, making it difficult for him to boost his energy levels. Yes, he was weak. 

But not, perhaps, as weak as they thought. At least, that’s what he hoped. 

I’m going to have to get out soon, though, if I’m to get out at all. Otherwise I really will be too weak. He knew his chances of survival if he stayed. Damashi would keep him alive for only so long as it suited her research. After that…he merely became a liability, and she was not one to keep liabilities around. 

Done with the “meal,” he rose and put the tray back next to the slot in the cell door. Returning to the bench, he sat for a few minutes more before lying down and closing his eyes again. As little rest as he might feel he was getting from his sleep, it was helping his body to recover, if only a little bit. And he was still tired.

Something was niggling in the back of his mind as he drifted off, and he frowned. Something important…some connection he should have made…

But then sleep overcame him, and it was gone.

* * *

Pain frowned. 

Itachi and Kisame were late. Very late. And had yet to complete their latest assignment, as the latest report from his far-flung spy network indicated. Their target was still very much alive, and not so much as a whisper of his two operatives had been heard in the target’s village. Nor anywhere nearby. 

In fact, both of them seemed to have dropped completely off the face of the earth. 

Pain was not happy. 

He stopped in front of one of the oddly-shaped doors that the Akatsuki members had constructed to block off their chosen cave. He knocked sharply.

Then waited almost-patiently to the sound of several traps being moved or disarmed before the door was drawn open. 

“Do you need something, un?” Deidara asked. The young man hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder, and then beckoned Pain inside, closing the door behind him. Pain was patient with this, knowing that Sasori had spent long months drilling some sense of paranoia into his young and often impetuous partner.

The red-haired missing-nin in question was sitting on his pallet, bent intently over some small piece of puppetry, though he paused and looked up when the door closed. 

“I have another mission for the two of you,” Pain began promptly, putting up a hand to stop Deidara’s eager expression. “Reconnaissance only. This needs to stay quiet. _Very_ quiet.” 

Deidara sighed. Sasori merely nodded, though Rei thought he detected the barest hint of relief in the older man’s eyes.

Under other circumstances, he might have been amused. 

“What kind of reconnaissance?” Sasori asked quietly.

“I need you to find out what has happened to Uchiha and Hoshigaki. They never showed up at their latest destination, and I can’t find news of either of them. They seem to have disappeared entirely.” 

Deidara blinked at him, startled, and Sasori frowned, both men knowing that such occurrences were out-of-place for the other pair. Something was definitely wrong.

“Of course, Pain-sama, we’ll get right on it,” Sasori said, rising.

“Un,” Deidara added, his eyes narrowed. 

Pain nodded sharply to them both and left, deciding to find Zetsu and send him out as well, even though that would leave him short-staffed. There was much work to be done, and now fewer people to get it done with. 

The timing was bad, of course, but that was merely an annoyance. It wasn’t as though they’d shown up late, or hadn’t been able to complete the mission. 

They had disappeared, without sending word to him. 

Ultimately, that meant two things: either they were both lying dead somewhere (unlikely)…or they had deserted.

Either way, his plans had just gotten a lot more complicated.

* * *

Kisame stumbled gratefully back into his cell, allowing the guard’s shove to propel him over to the bench, not liking to admit to himself that he might not have made it that far without the extra momentum. 

This session with his ever-gracious hostess had been more painful than previous ones, and he knew that he was running out of time. He’d been here…six days now, if his counting was accurate. He had to get out…

Exhaustion claimed him before his planning had gotten any further, and he drifted into light sleep, letting thoughts filter through his mind.

_…they were driving him back, away from the road and out sight of his partner…_

_“The jutsu itself is difficult…cast through the target’s eyes and mind…”_

_Itachi-san…it’s wrong, be careful…_

_“…understanding his psychology, how he would react to the situation…”_

_It’s not right…_

_“Once I was sure the Uchiha wouldn’t follow…”_

_Itachi!_

Kisame sat up, wide awake in an instant as the thing that had been bothering him for the past couple of days suddenly clicked into place. 

Itachi thinks I’m _dead._

The realization was less shocking than the explanation for it. 

She fooled _Itachi_ with _genjutsu_. And now he thinks I’m dead. That’s why no one has come looking for me. Kisame had wondered about that, supposed that either Itachi had gone on to finish the mission, or had gone back to base to inform their leader that Kisame had been captured.

But if he thinks that I’m dead… Kisame frowned. He didn’t know exactly how Itachi would react to that, but it wasn’t likely to be a good kind of reaction.

Taking a deep breath, and shaking off the shock of it, he lay down again. All the more reason to get out of here, as quickly as I can. And for that, I’ll need all my strength.

Shoving all other thoughts aside, he was soon asleep.

* * *

Pain sat in the main chamber of the Akatsuki headquarters, glaring at the far wall in the same position he’d been in since Sasori and Deidara had left him a couple of hours ago.

Their news had not been good.

“We covered all the area we could sweep in a week,” Sasori had begun without preamble when the two travel-worn shinobi had come back earlier that day.

“But we didn’t find any sign of them, un.” Even Deidara sounded tired, which meant that “all the area they could sweep in a week” had been a significant area. “And we even asked around in villages and towns, but there wasn’t any news there, either, un.”

Pain had nodded reluctantly and let them go, telling them to let the other members currently at base (which was probably only Zetsu, who had also had no news of them) know that there was a meeting for everyone this evening. 

That meeting was now coming up, and Pain still wasn’t entirely sure what he meant to say to them; he did not want to send out the whole organization, but he did need to find out what had happened to Kisame and Itachi. Dead or deserted, it was now at least two and half weeks since their disappearance, and he _had_ to know what had happened. 

The others began to drift in. They settled themselves around the room a little ways from his chair. Zetsu leaned against the wall in his usual way. Deidara had brought a bit of clay and Sasori had brought puppetry to tinker with, as usual. 

Just as well, he supposed. He wasn’t quite done thinking through all the possible consequences, so it was best not to start the meeting formally just yet-

A nearly-silent shuffling footstep outside the quiet cave caught everyone’s attention. No one who wasn’t Akatsuki should be able to get into the cavern complex at all, but they hadn’t lived this long by taking chances…

Uchiha Itachi walked in with slow, oddly deliberate footsteps.

Pain blinked, startled and relieved to see at least one member of his errant team back. He rose from his chair to go to the young man and ask him what the hell had happened-

-only to stop abruptly about ten feet from Itachi when the dark-haired shinobi raised his head.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. 

The others, who had all started up at the appearance of their missing colleague, also grew still as they sensed their leader’s sudden unease and looked more closely at the Uchiha.

His clothes were dirty and tattered, the lower half of his coat reduced to little more than shreds, and tears had opened wide holes in other places too. His sandals and pants were caked with mud up to mid-shin, and there was dried blood and gods-only-knew what else on his shirt and arms and face. His hair was matted and tangled, only partly still in its usual tail. His face was thinner, too, as though he hadn’t been eating much, and there were dark rings under his eyes.

The eyes, Pain realized suddenly. His eyes are wrong. That’s what’s really off.

Though the Sharingan was still apparent in Itachi’s eyes, it seemed…dulled, somehow. Darker than their usual scarlet. Itachi’s focus seemed to be off, too. He looked around blankly, and though a brief sense of recognition flitted through that strange dull red, Pain thought abruptly that the recognition was not something he could count on to keep them all safe from attack.

Itachi had always been somewhat unstable mentally, of course, but usually he kept such tight control over himself that it didn’t really matter. 

This was different. 

Pain didn’t know what had happened out there, but something had knocked that control almost completely out of Itachi’s grasp, and his instability was readily, dangerously apparent. He would be completely volatile in this mind set, Pain suspected, ready to go off at the slightest thing he perceived as threatening. 

“Itachi?” He questioned carefully, making sure to keep both of his hands in plain sight and to speak softly. Not that Itachi could take down all of them, of course, but he was powerful enough in his own right to do significant damage before the rest of them could take him down. Such a confrontation was to be avoided if at all possible.

Dull red eyes swiveled to him, and stared for a long, blank moment before blinking once. “Pain-sama.” Itachi’s deep voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, as though he hadn’t used it in days. 

“Itachi,” Pain continued, still calm and not loud, glad that Itachi at least recognized him. “Itachi, what happened?”

“What…happened.” Itachi blinked again, swaying a little on his feet, clenching his left hand more tightly around something.

A hitai-ate, Pain realized abruptly. _Kisame’s_ hitai-ate.

“Itachi, I need to know what happened. Where is your partner?”

Itachi grew very still, his eyes unfocused and staring at something very far away. “Kisame is dead.”

“What?” Pain couldn’t help but ask, shocked. Around them, the others shifted in disbelief.

“Kisame is dead.” Itachi’s voice had never sounded as emotionless as it did in this moment. “Kisame is dead.”

Pain suspected that the emotionless voice did not at all reflect Itachi’s mental state right now, but didn’t press the issue. It sounded as though Itachi found the idea just as hard to believe as the rest of them, but had forced himself into accepting it, because that was what Itachi did. Illusions were a weapon to be used against others; he allowed himself none, no matter how brutal the truth was. 

“All right,” Pain continued, calm again. “Do you know how it happened?”

Itachi was silent for another long minute, still staring with unfocused eyes at the back wall. “Barren land. A forest. Attacked…split apart. Kept me busy until it was too late. The clearing was empty when I got there. Blood.” Still, his voice did not change, though his eyes were beginning to look more focused and less sane. He finished in a whisper, “So much blood…”

“Did you actually see his body?” Pain asked, more carefully yet.

Itachi blinked then, and his eyes dulled out again. He looked at Pain, the barest hint of a frown touching his face. “Body? No. But there was too much blood. And no chakra.”

Pain nodded slowly. Their attackers might well have taken Kisame’s body with them to study (the man did have a rather fascinating kekkei genkai), so that problem was easily explained. Other than that…well, if Itachi had seen too much of Kisame’s blood on the ground and had not been able to feel his chakra…the evidence seemed pretty conclusive, even without a body to prove it. 

“Anything else?” Itachi wanted to know, voice and eyes now completely dull again. Pain noted this carefully, suspecting that the less-sane moments would come and go a bit at random, and that those were the dangerous times to watch out for. The red-eyed shinobi was safe enough now to at least get him back to his room and cleaned up.

“No, not for now.” He would need more information about Itachi’s attackers. Obviously there was a significantly powerful group out there who had managed to escape his notice, an error which needed to be corrected as soon as possible. But that could wait until later. “Why don’t you go back to your room and get cleaned up. Konan will bring you some food. All right?”

Itachi’s eyes flicked to Konan, then to the others, narrowing briefly, but he nodded and turned, leaving the cave with the same slow, painfully deliberate steps as before. 

Konan nodded to him without further need for communication: she would be careful. 

Pain went back to his chair and slumped into it, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

This was nearly as bad as just outright losing both of them; Itachi was obviously not going to be stable without his partner, at least not for some time, and possibly never would be stable again. Not enough to be an effective member of the organization, at any rate, and he was too dangerous to let go. 

Pain did not like the idea of trying to kill Itachi, both because the young man was a rather paranoid genius and could potentially cause a lot of damage in the process, and because he had been a genuine asset to the Akatsuki for…just over fifteen years now. He didn’t like the idea of trying to find _two_ new recruits, but that was looking like his only option. 

With Kisame dead (Pain shook his head disbelievingly again, but there it was) and Itachi now more dangerous and just as easily set off as one of Deidara’s beloved bombs…“complicated” started to sound like an understatement.

* * *

Kisame feigned sleep until the door in the outer room had clanged shut and he heard footsteps walking away out in the corridor. 

As soon as those had faded, though, he sat up quickly (in spite of the now ever-present ache) and took a deep breath. It was nighttime now, and he wouldn’t be checked on again for several hours. 

Though hopefully he wouldn’t need that long. 

His captors had been very thorough in locking him up; the cage was strong, they had mostly bound his chakra, and were keeping him weak enough that his size and usual strength weren’t nearly as useful as they normally would be. 

However, they had made one mistake.

They had left Samehada in the room just outside his cell. 

It was on the other side of that room, sure, but that made little difference. As long as there weren’t any walls in the way….

Kisame did not really know much about his own bloodline, as the rest of his clan had been slaughtered in Mist’s bloodline purges when he was very small. About all he remembered of that night was a back room in the main clan house, and the warm, slightly-blurry presence of his mother, pricking his finger against something sharp before curling his small hands around the hilt of the Hoshigaki head family’s heirloom blade before leaving to fight what turned out to be a hopeless battle. 

Ever since that night, when his blood had touched its blade for the first time, Samehada had been linked to Kisame in ways that he couldn’t begin to explain to anyone else. It’s not that the sword was _sentient_ , exactly, but it was more aware than a mere inanimate object should be, and their bond certainly ran deeper than a mere chakra connection. 

Meaning that the chakra-binding ropes around his wrists made no difference at all in his ability to communicate with his sword. 

He’d gotten a bit more rest these past two days since his realization that Itachi most likely thought him dead; his hostess had apparently had other business come up, and her experiments had been put on temporary hold. It wasn’t much…but Kisame thought that it would be enough.

Wrapping his hands around the bars of the cage, he closed his eyes, reached out with his mind, and called to his sword. 

Samehada responded after only a brief delay, and as soon as he reaffirmed his call, it moved, falling from its leaning position in the corner to lie along the floor, its hilt pointed straight toward his cell. 

Well, it’s a start, Kisame thought wryly, pausing to take another couple of deep breaths. Though the bond didn’t _require_ chakra, it did help, and normally he used chakra to boost the connection. Doing it on strictly mental energy alone was more tiring, but as long as he was careful it would still get the job done.

He called again, and, slowly, the blade began to drag itself along the floor. The table in the middle of the floor presented a temporary problem, but Kisame managed to ease the sword around it and got it moving forward again without too much delay.

And then, at last, it bumped up against the bottom edge of the cage and he could kneel, reach through the bars and wrap a hand tightly around the handle. 

That feels good, he sighed with relief, rising again and pulling the sword up with him. Undoing part of the bandaging was but the work of a moment, and then he leaned it carefully up against the bars. A little maneuvering got the rope between his wrists lined up with the sword’s sharp teeth, which made quick work of it. Then, even more quickly he got the rope off his ankles, and rose again with another deep sigh of relief as he felt chakra flood back into his system. It had been diminished by his lack of food over the past few days, but the extra rest had helped, so all in all he wasn’t too badly off. Huge chakra reserves had always been his true weapon, though most people weren’t aware of that. 

It didn’t take long to get out of the cell and the room beyond it once he had chakra to work with, and he made all haste in getting out of the complex. A mixture of sneaking and disposing of guards, and one true battle at the main gate had him out (apparently no one _ever_ broke out of this place, so none of the shinobi here were expecting it), and then he took off with speed and energy he didn’t realize he had left. 

He headed north initially, then looped around to the south once he found a place to throw them off his trail. 

After that, his path was clear; south and east, as fast as he could, until he reached the Akatsuki base and, hopefully, his partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's still weird. ^_^;;


	3. ~3~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world rights itself.

Kisame shivered and wrapped the thin blanket tighter around his shoulders, bolstering himself with the knowledge that he was almost there. 

It had been nearly three weeks since he had broken out of his captivity and escaped Damashi’s stronghold, and he still wasn’t back to the Akatsuki base yet. He had been taken farther north than he’d originally estimated, so that had taken up time, but also he had simply needed to stop a lot. He was still weak from the ordeal, even now, and had paused for rest far more often than he would have in good health. Food had been better since he had gotten out, but only when he could find any. 

And they were tracking him. At least half of his stops in the first week had been to hide from his pursuers, though fortunately he was much better at the stealth part of being a shinobi than most people would assume, given his size and looks and sometimes brash fighting style. Still, it was a useful underestimation, one that he went out of his way not to correct. 

So he had avoided recapture, thankfully, and at last was nearly back. 

I hope Itachi-san will be there, the blue-skinned man thought, hunkering down further into the space between rocks where he had holed up for the night. He should know as soon as possible that I’m alive.

* * *

“How is he today?” Pain asked Sasori quietly when the other shinobi returned from taking some food to Itachi’s cave. 

There was movement under Sasori’s cloak that might have been a shrug. “Not better. He would not let me in.” 

Pain frowned, then nodded and let the puppet-master go. 

Another week and a half had gone by since the Uchiha’s return. In that time, he had had both good and bad days, though generally seemed to be remain stable. Pain had taken this as a good sign, and had hoped that the Sharingan wielder might begin to pull himself out of the shock that seemed to have locked him up largely inside his own mind. 

During the past couple of days, however, the dark-haired shinobi had become more and more jumpy at little things, and that strange, not-quite-sane sharpness was creeping back into his eyes, and Pain was afraid that it wouldn’t be too much longer before the Uchiha would have to be dealt with. He would give Itachi another couple of days, just to make sure, but if he hadn’t improved by then…he was too much a danger to the rest of the organization, and they couldn’t afford that, not at this stage in their plans. Itachi had stopped letting anyone into his room at all, forcing them to leave food outside his door. He did seem to be eating it, at least, but the increased paranoia was a sign that things were going downhill. Rapidly.

Pain couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done the right thing, letting Itachi and Kisame’s partnership get so close. Still, it was the only way that some shinobi could ever work with anyone at all, and it was important that they did that they work in pairs. 

I just hadn’t realized quite how close those two had gotten. He sighed. Well, there was little use regretting it now. He’d just have to deal with the fallout, find some new recruits if need be, and get on with things. 

* * * 

The red veil was creeping over him again. 

It was being drawn slowly, just inches at a time, so at least he knew that it was coming. 

That didn’t stop him from being on edge. 

He wasn’t sure why he’d come back here. His wandering feet had turned back this way, at some point out there in the wilderness, and he’d not been in any state to protest or go a different way. 

Now he wished he had; the others were dangerous. Pain was plotting something, and he had always known that Sasori was dangerous. He didn’t understand the puppet master at all, and that was never a good thing. The same applied to Zetsu; the plant-man was simply too big of a question mark. Deidara he could take on without too much trouble, so the blond man wasn’t quite so bad, but even he couldn’t be trusted. 

No, there had never been anyone here he could trust. 

No one…except the one person he still had to remind himself not to look around for. 

Except Kisame. He could trust Kisame. 

But Kisame was dead. 

The red veil crept further along, covering more of the grey. 

Abruptly restless, Itachi rose from the chair he’d been sitting in for the better part of his time here, and slipped out of the cave he had once shared with his partner. It didn’t make him feel safer to wander around the cave complex that was their base, but it eased the restlessness, which was something. 

He wandered into the main cavern where they sometimes met as a group, reassuring himself with the presence of several kunai tucked into the belt of the yukata he was currently wearing. He was armed, and had the Sharingan out and ready as always. He wouldn’t be caught off guard if any of them tried something. 

He was slightly put off when he discovered that Pain, Konan, and Sasori were currently in the main cavern, but Deidara came in just then, chattering loudly to his “danna” and easing the air. Reassured slightly now that Sasori’s attention would be directed elsewhere, Itachi settled himself in a nook, with his back firmly to a wall, and watched with careful eyes. Zetsu drifted in after a bit as well, and Deidara turned away from his bluntly uninterested partner to talk at the green-haired man, who didn’t seem to mind just sitting and listening. Pain had tuned them all out, and was sitting in his chair staring blankly off into space, clearly thinking hard about something; Konan appeared to be doing the same, though Itachi didn’t doubt that she was well aware of everyone in the room. 

Well, at least they couldn’t plot anything behind his back while he was in the room. He settled back to watch, blood-red eyes scanning the room with methodic slowness, barely listening to Deidara’s chatter and Sasori’s occasional grumble as he peered more closely at whatever puppet bit he was fixing this time. 

And then Kisame walked into the cave.

Tired, blue-grey eyes met shocked red, and Itachi’s world stopped moving.

Later, he would recall that the rest of the room had gone silent. Later, he would note that the others had all leaped to their feet and rushed to the shark-like shinobi. Later, he would distantly remember rising to his own feet, back still pressed to the wall for support. 

But only later. Right now, there was only room for one thought in his mind. 

Something was wrong. Something didn’t fit. 

Kisame was here, alive. His eyes told him that. His eyes didn’t lie. 

But he knew that Kisame was dead. He had seen the blood, had not-felt the chakra. He had accepted this. And, again, his eyes did not lie. 

Both could not be true. _Something_ was a lie. 

He wasn’t sure what would happen if Kisame being alive was the lie. 

Kisame was dead. That was what he had known first. That could not be a lie. 

But this…this Kisame, who _was_ alive, was talking now, talking to Pain, but still letting his eyes drift over to Itachi every few seconds, as if to reassure himself that Itachi was still there. 

“-finally got away, but you need to look into this group. I’d never heard of her before, and she’s got quite an operation up there. Not only that, but she’s quite frighteningly skilled herself, especially with genjutsu and the medical stuff – she was a medic-nin before she deserted – because that’s how she caught me without anyone realizing what had happened. She used some jutsu, I don’t know what, and caught Itachi-san with it. Something developed specifically to fight Sharingan users, something that lets you fool even a Mangekyo user with genjutsu. I don’t know!” Kisame held up his hands to ward off the protests this produced from his circle of listeners. “I don’t know how it works, just what I overheard. And apparently that it does work, because it convinced him that I was…” He trailed off, looking at Itachi again. The others turned and looked his way too, but he could only look at Kisame. Or this person who looked like Kisame. And talked like him. And moved like him. 

But Kisame was dead.

“I see,” Pain said finally. “Well, it looks as though you could use some medical treatment yourself, and a good meal and a bath. Let’s get you back to your room. Zetsu, go scout out to the north for a bit, if you would, just to double-check that Kisame wasn’t followed. Deidara, see if there was any leftover food anywhere. Sasori, give me a hand with him.” 

For indeed, Kisame was swaying on his feet, and resignedly accepted the help of Pain and Sasori to get him down to his and Itachi’s cavern. 

Itachi was dimly aware of his own feet moving, following closely, and watching even closer. 

The blue-skinned man was not in good shape, he realized. His coat was gone, and he had a thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders in its place. Under that, he had only his shirt, pants and sandals, and Samehada strapped to his back. He wasn’t wearing his hitai-ate, of course, as that was currently tucked inside the front fold of Itachi’s yukata. The blue-haired man’s face was rather gaunt, as though he hadn’t had enough food lately. His eyes spoke of long, unrelieved pain and exhaustion. 

Itachi went and stood in a corner as the others fussed over Kisame, helping him to get moderately washed, and bandaging some of the not-quite healed wounds, and then getting him food and a clean, warm yukata to replace his much-tattered clothing. 

Kisame…was dead. He was an Uchiha. It wasn’t _possible_ to fool him with genjutsu…

Unless what Kisame said was true. Unless this…this woman really _had_ found something that worked against the Sharingan. Had been made specifically to work against Sharingan. If she had, then that was the lie. And if that was the lie, then Kisame was actually…

But would such a thing work? Could it really exist? Had he really been fooled then? Or was he being fooled _now_ …

He remained in his corner, completely still except for his eyes, the whole time the others remained in the room. His eyes did not once leave Kisame. 

Then, abruptly, the others were all gone, and the door had closed behind them, and Kisame had locked it and was sitting down on the edge of his bed. 

He returned Itachi’s stare quite steadily, just like he always had. 

“Itachi-san,” he said at last, quietly. “I’m alive.” 

“But you were dead,” Itachi heard himself whispering, eyes still fixed unblinking on his partner’s face. “I know you were dead.”

“You thought I was dead,” Kisame corrected, gently. “You were supposed to think that I was dead, so that you wouldn’t think there was any point in trying to find or rescue me.” 

“I can’t be fooled by genjutsu.”

“Unless it’s cast through your own eyes?” Kisame wanted to know.

Itachi blinked at that. “I-I’ve never heard of such a thing….”

“That is what she said she did. Cast the jutsu through your eyes and mind, not through her own, so that it would not even register to you that a genjutsu was involved at all. I suspect that you might have caught it even then, but she made sure to wear you down first, and to set it up so that we were already apart.” Seeing the remaining denial in Itachi’s face, Kisame stopped and looked at him intently for a moment. “Was there nothing off in your mind when you reached the place where I ‘died’? Nothing strange at all?”

“Nothing,” Itachi murmured, frowning and thinking back. Nothing…except for the whisper. That whisper that had echoed his thoughts, but hadn’t been any voice of his. 

That whisper which was exactly how the subtler types of genjutsu were supposed to work.

He looked up at Kisame, eyes widening. 

“There was something off, wasn’t there? Under any other circumstances, you’d probably have caught it, too.” Kisame smiled tiredly at him. “She knew us both pretty damn well. Knew exactly what we’d do, how we’d react…” He shook his head. 

Itachi stood still again, clenching his hands into fists. 

“But it’s all over now. You’re back, and I’m back, and we’re alive. I’m alive.” Kisame met his eyes again, just as steady as ever. “I’m alive. I promise, Itachi-san.”

Itachi took one step forward. He wanted to believe it, he acknowledged to himself. He wanted to believe that Kisame was alive. But still…

He took another step, and then another. 

Kisame rose and waited patiently as the younger man slowly crossed the room, one hesitant step at a time.

His eyes had never betrayed him before. But if they had lied to him once, they could lie to him again. In this, at least, he couldn’t trust his eyes. Not his eyes. He willed away the Sharingan. Not his eyes, but maybe…

Three steps left, then two, then one, and then he was standing in front of Kisame, looking directly up into the small, blue-grey eyes that had never once left his. The one person he had always been able to trust…for fifteen years, night and day, countless missions, countless miles and all the words that he’d never needed to say…

Itachi took a deep breath and raised his hands to touch Kisame’s face. 

The veils were gone, he realized abruptly as his long fingers took in the feel of slightly-rough cerulean skin, gone for the first time in weeks. He could see clearly again. 

“You’re alive,” he whispered, tracing his hands over Kisame’s forehead, high cheekbones, gaunt cheeks, broad nose, thin lips… “You _are_ alive.” 

“Yes, Itachi-san. I’m alive.” Kisame raised his hands too, curling them around Itachi’s. “I’m sorry to have left you.”

“Don’t leave again,” Itachi whispered, attempting to put on a glare, but suspecting that he only managed a greater intensity in his now-black eyes. He let Kisame’s hands move his to the taller man’s shoulders, and curled them into the fabric of the yukata there. He shook Kisame imperceptibly to emphasize his point. “We work together. You’re not allowed to leave.” 

Kisame’s hands slid lightly down his back, and Itachi didn’t protest, even though they had never touched this much before. 

“I’ll be more careful next time. I promise,” the taller man leaned down a bit, voice dropping even further, “Itachi.”

“Good,” Itachi stated, surprised fingers tugging the yukata harder at the sudden lack of honorific with his name. “ _Kisame_ …”

And then they were kissing, and Itachi didn’t know how or why, but did know that this was what he had been asking Kisame for without realizing it.

The soft touch of Kisame’s warm lips caressing his was even more reassuring than anything else, and Itachi pressed closer easily when the taller man’s arms slid fully around him, wanting and needing more of that reassurance.

And wanting that touch merely for its own sake, he realized with another small shock as Kisame coaxed wordlessly for them to lie down on the bed together. He couldn’t say how long he had wanted this…had wanted the feeling of Kisame’s large hands moving over him gently, had wanted to let his own slender hands roam over his partner’s body, to feel his presence that much more vividly. Didn’t know how long he had wanted the hot, breath-taking completion Kisame taught him how to share, with soothing hands and warm lips. 

Didn’t know how long it had been since he had started needing Kisame to _be_ there. 

Didn’t know…and didn’t care. There were new things to explore now, new issues to be dealt with and healing to do for both of them…

But it can wait until morning, Itachi thought, truly sleepy for the first time in four weeks. And so, with the warm, solid, and very much alive presence of Kisame to curl up against, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Kisame lay awake for a few minutes more, looking down at his partner and smoothing the long, black hair out of Itachi’s sleeping face. 

I hadn’t realized just how close we’d gotten. Just how much he means to me…how much I mean to him. Kisame hoped that it wasn’t going to cause trouble for them when Itachi woke up and thought through some of the implications a bit more fully…but he didn’t think so. We’ll work it out. If we can deal with this whole ordeal, we can take anything.

In his sleep, Itachi shifted closer in unconscious agreement. Kisame smiled, wrapped his arms more tightly around the sleeping man, and then let his eyes drift closed for what was going to be his best sleep in a month. 

“You’re right, Itachi,” he whispered. “We _do_ work together.”

And really, that was all the more they needed to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly more editing in this chapter to make Akatsuki things a bit more in line with canon. I originally wrote this back before we knew that their main base was in Amegakure, hence the assumption that they’re in a cave somewhere.
> 
> “Kaibou” means “to dissect” and “Damashi” means “trickery.” I would feel bad about using random Japanese vocabulary for names, but that’s what Kishimoto does half the time, so whatever. |D
> 
> I snitched the idea of genjutsu being a “whisper” in the mind from Elizabeth Culmer’s fic [The Way of the Apartment Manager](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120050/chapters/2257065), which I recommend if you haven't stumbled over it before now.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the weirdness. Thanks for reading!


End file.
